


A Day's Work

by Sinnabon_Delights



Category: Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Gen, i can NOT believe i like this dickhead, i see this happening early on in the relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 01:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17336369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinnabon_Delights/pseuds/Sinnabon_Delights
Summary: Working a job with Micah was never a pleasant experience. Unpredictable and prone to violence, he was quite the handful.





	A Day's Work

“It’s about damn time you crawled out of camp, you sorry lookin’ shit.” Micah rasped at you from atop Baylock, watching as you made your way to the hitching posts then onto your own steed. It was late, the open sky shining with stars, and you were a bit foggy from being awoken so you were still dragging about.

You had, unfortunately, been paired with Micah to go and scope out the nearby town of Rhodes for any sort of mark you could score within the night. “And it’s about time you shut your mouth, Bell, or so help me Jesus!” You shot your words at him with all of the venom you had gathered from him these past few months, hopefully making it clear you were in no mood to be the subject of his constant dogging any longer.

Ever since he first arrived here, he had his eye on you. As time had gone on, he’s started getting more and more demeaning towards you, as if he had some sort of beef with you. Whatever it was you’d done to him, you didn’t know, but you did know you had a short temper and you couldn’t take too much more of this.

“Or what?” He threw his head back and laughed as he kept his horse at a steady pace next to yours, despite your attempt at speeding up a bit, “Y'know, Jesus will have to help you, sugar pie, because I ain’t so gentle!” He spat on the ground, and the look in his eye said he’d flash his knife if he could, the bastard.

“Oh no, whatever would I do if you got a hold of me?” You snorted in reply, and the second he opened his mouth to speak you started waving at him like he was just a fly buzzing in your ear, “Well that’s good and all, Mr. Bell but before you could do anything to me…” deciding that you might as well stir the pot if he’s gonna do the same to you. With how close he was riding to you, it was no surprise you had formed a brilliant idea within moments.  
A grin was all you gave as warning, then you bumped your horse into his, spooking not only the beasts you sat upon but that blonde beast of a man as well. “You’d have to catch me first!” You hollered over his surprised spew of curses, spurring your horse into action and bolting ahead in the small amount of time your distraction had given you.

“It’s only better if you run, makes it more rewardin’!” You heard him call up to you, but you decided to save your energy on guiding your horse instead of using it to bicker with the ornery man. and all the while he made comments about all the ways he’d rough you up and make you regret this once he got you.  
Once he regained his composure, it has damn hard to stay in the lead, but stay in the lead you did right up until you reached your destination of Rhodes. You had turned a twenty minute trip into a ten minute one, and you knew that you would’ve gone crazy if you had to listen to him yap on and on for that long.

“Now what was that you were tryin’ to say? All that blabber before you ate my dust, that is. Not all the stuff during it.” You joked, slowing to a stop just outside the small town to allow him to catch up so he could ride by your side again.

“Oh that was just riding horses, (y/n), anyone of us coulda won that… that is if you played fair..” he galloped right on past you, not giving you a glance as he passed ahead to the nearest hitching post, “Next time let’s see what happens.” You followed suit, tying your horse to the post and giving them a quick pat and an apple as thanks for the victory.  
“But I meant what I said, you know, before that little race.” Micah didn’t look at you, the tone in his voice enough to tell you that he was a bit sour about losing the race. Serves him right, trying to work you up and scare you like he has been these past months. You were more than willing to show him up any chance you had. “Don’t forget that, sugar pie…”

“Stop callin’ Me that! And I’ll have you know I can handle myself.” You half stated, half warned, watching him lead the way like the cock of the roost he thought he was. “I’m sure you can, sugar pie.” You heard him grunt out, shooting a glance over his shoulder at you. He scoffed and motioned with his arm for you to pick up the pace. It became evident soon after you began matching his pace that he was leading you to the saloon.

“Now here I thought we were on a business trip, not one of pleasure.” You stated, though you couldn’t say you were too distraught over the little detour. The only thing you’d have to worry about in there was Micah, though that itself could be a handful…

“Nothing wrong with mixin’ the two.” He conceded with a wink, and entered the loud saloon, and with nothing better to do you followed along as you had been since arriving in the town.

You looked around, trying to weigh each person’s pockets as you looked them all over. The saloon was rather crowded tonight, and you could smell the opportunity as strongly as the body odor. You knew exactly where Micah would be, planted in front of the bar as usual, and wanting to have a moment away from him you knew where you were headed, “Alright, I guess I’ll go upstairs and look ar-”

But before you could finish your sentence, Micah grabbed your shoulder and gave you a little shake to jar you, “Nah, you stick with me and follow along. I’ve got something up this sleeve of mine, don’t you worry.” He led you through the groups of people, heading straight for the bar as you knew he would, shouldering a few drunks out of the way as he went.

You weren’t too horribly worried before, but you definitely were now. Micah? with a plan? It couldn’t be anything good. You tensed up a bit, suspecting things would not go so smoothly with him and his plan. giving him an unbelieving look, you spoke up over the chatter of the people around you “Oh? And what’s your plan then, Micah?”

“I told you not to worry,” he situated himself against the bar, motioning to the bartender to catch his attention. After doing so Micah looked into your eyes, giving you a nudge, “Trust me.” You shook your head as you took your place next to him, not buying into his words for a moment. It was easier to just be quiet and bide your time, though, so for now you allowed him to take the reigns on this night time endeavor.

“Two beers.” Micah laid two coins onto the bar and the man gave him a nod and sat two bottles in front of him. You grabbed one and popped the top off, taking a quick gulp. “Thirsty?” Micah chuckled, side eyeing you from under his hat as he took a drink from his bottle. You nodded whilst taking another mouthful of alcohol down your gullet, setting the bottle against the bar after you had half of it down.

“So can you handle a fight like you can handle a drink?” The blonde inquired, setting his empty bottle down and paying for another. “I thought I told you already that I could.” You finished off your own beer, turning so you were facing him instead of the bar. “That you did.” Were the only words from him before he turned on his heels and broke the unopened beer over whoever was unlucky enough to be standing behind him. The man fell limply to the ground, clearly out cold. The violent action caused a chain reaction among the other patrons, some flying for the exits and the others fighting whoever was closest to them at the moment.

“What the hell!?” You yelled in surprise, side stepping in time to avoid a chair that had been thrown across the room. “Thought you could handle yourself, sugar pie!” Micah let out a laugh, jumping behind the bar and he began fighting with the bartender, raising a fist into the man’s gut. Though too busy with focusing on the man currently charging at you, you decided action would have to suffice instead of words.

Ducking under a swing, you brought your fist up with all you had and uppercutted the cowboy’s jaw. Hearing his teeth clack together he stumbled back and lost his balance, falling onto his back. There was no time to continue with him as another far scruffier and larger man replaced the fallen cowboy, who instead of swinging his fists was swinging a rather sharp looking hunting knife.  
As you noticed the blade, it nicked your stomach causing you to jump back, the bar stopping you from getting the distance you needed to escape his reach. He lowered his arm, and figuring he would go for your stomach once again, you went to grab for his wrist in an attempt to save yourself from being gutted.  
Instead of feeling the warmth of flesh against your palm, you felt the cool steel of the blade as it dug into your hand. “Ah fuck!” You let out a yelp at the sudden flash of pain shooting throughout your hand, though thankful it wasn’t coming from your stomach. He pushed against your hand, still going for his original target despite your attempt at stopping him.  
You pressed yourself against the bar as you attempted to push the blade away, and despite your strength the pain of the knife sawing into your hand was too much and he began to gain inches. It would be just a few moments before he completely overpowered you and the knife would be plunged into you.  
Just as you accepted the fact you were going to be stabbed, a fist flew from behind you and right into the scruffy man’s nose. An explosion of blood splattered from the now busted nose, and the man went to cover his face. You were pushed aside so your rescuer could hop over the bar and continue with his work.

Micah didn’t give the man a moment to collect himself, knocking him about a few more times before disarming him and using the man’s weapon against him. Without hesitation he stuck the knife into the man’s beer gut, kicking him away, his boot connecting with the handle and making the entirety of the knife disappear within the man. He hit the wall and slumped down, and you looked to Micah, wondering what kind of damn plan this was.  
Micah then turned to face you, quickly returning to your side. Looking almost frantic, he grabbed you by your shirt and drug you behind him as he went for the back exit only the employees used. Thankfully the few fighters left standing were busy with each other so the two of you made it out without further incident.

“God damn!” You exclaimed once out in the fresh air, trying to put pressure on the cut on your hand. It was more than just a little cut, it was a deep laceration that almost cut through to the bone. “You are one crazy son of a bitch!” You hissed between your teeth, brows furrowed. Although pissed at Micah, you were a bit preoccupied with the slash in your hand.

“Let me see it.” Micah ignored your comments and grabbed your wrist, and held your arm out, stretching your hand out so he could get a better look at the wound. He reached into his back pocket and brought out a bottle of gin, taking the cork out with his teeth and spitting it to the side. Keeping a firm grip on your wrist, he poured a hearty amount over your cut.

You gasped, instinct telling you to pull away and separate yourself from the pain but his grip kept you in place. “Drink the rest.” He released you after ‘medicating’ the laceration then put the bottle of gin in your other hand. You did so without hesitation, hoping it would be enough to numb you even a little bit.

Upon realizing that was the only wound that needed attention he retrieved something else from his back pocket, a wide smile forming on his face as he revealed it to be a thick wad of cash. “I told you to trust me.” He didn’t bother counting it, just handing you half of the stack.

“And I was worried you were just fighting for fun.” You let out a breathy laugh, wrapping your hand up in your shirt. “Like I said, there ain’t nothing wrong with business and pleasure mixing together.” He laughed with you, placing his hand on your shoulder. This time it was surprisingly gentle, and the two of you began walking back to the horses.

“Where did you even get all this? No way it came from the register alone…” you wondered aloud, counting around three hundred dollars in the half he handed you. You pocketed it as you arrived at the horses, wondering how hard it would be to hoist yourself up with one hand.

“I knew about a stash under the floorboards. Kept all the dirty money there.” He shrugged, giving your shoulder a small squeeze before moving behind you. You felt his hands grab your waist and you let out a squeak in surprise as he lifted you up, placing you onto your horse effortlessly.

Micah untied the horses and mounted Baylock, riding by your side. He had lost his hat during the bar brawl so his hair was free to blow in the wind of what was now sure to be early morning, and upon studying his face you realized he didn’t get out unscathed. A busted lip and a knot on his forehead attested to that.

“It’s not polite to stare, darlin’.” He shot you a smile, that was really more of a shit eating grin than anything friendly. Quickly adverting your eyes, you began taking in the still environment around you. The occasional coyote howled, and the earliest of birds began singing to usher in the new day.

“There ain’t much to stare at.” You countered, face flushing at being caught looking him over. A bit embarrassed, you bumbled over your words, “I just… wanted to make sure you weren’t too fucked up.” You idly pet your horse with your good hand.

He chuckled and donned an overly sappy voice, “How sweet of you to fret over me, (Y/n).” Micah looked over at you, leaning over a bit so he was closer to you, “So where’s the ring?” You sighed, smiling slightly as you turned to look at him again.

“Very funny, Bell.” You pushed him so he was back to sitting straight on his saddle, and you dug around in your satchel for something to show your gratitude. Your hand still hurt like hell, but you were glad it was just your hand and not anything too vital. You figured you’d replace the alcohol he used on you, and withdrew a bottle of bourbon from the pouch, “I think this is better than a ring, anyway.”

You passed him the bottle and he took it gladly, “Damn right it is.” He tucked the bourbon into his coat, putting it into a sewn in pocket. The rest of the ride was quiet, peaceful, even. A stark contrast to all the other times you had spent with the older man, which usually consisted of bickering and passive aggressive acts. You didn’t understand why he was nice- or as nice as he could be- to you now. Perhaps he was simply too tired to bitch at you, but knowing him you don’t think sleepiness or a fight would stop him from being a prick. You wondered if you’d proven yourself back there, and maybe had gathered an ounce of respect from him. You doubted it, honestly.

Once back at camp, the night had broken and light was beginning to break through. Everyone was sleeping, but soon the camp would be bustling with life and the morning fog would move on.

“You let Susan take a look at that hand of yours, (Y/n).” Micah said as he got off of Baylock, and approached your horse. You were about to tell him you could get down on your own, but he had plucked you from your horse and sat you down on the grass before you could. “I planned on it.” You stated, looking up at him. Yet again wondering how he went from needling you constantly to this, seemingly being worried about you.

He slapped a hand onto your back, leaving it there as he walked you through camp and to your tent. “I guess you really can handle yourself, darlin’.” He hummed and opened your tent flap for you.

“You’re gonna have start trusting me some, Bell.” You turned to face him and gave his chest a pat, “And don’t call me darling.” You then sat on your bed, retrieving an old shirt and ripping it so you could wrap your wounded hand up whilst you rested.

“Would you prefer sugar pie?” He joked, tilting his head at you slightly. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, “On second thought, never mind. I kind of even like it.” Your tone was sarcastic, but you really did prefer darling to sugar pie. You couldn’t stand the nickname he’d given you since he had laid eyes on you. He had used it more often than your name and it had driven you up the wall.

“Alright then, darling, I’ll leave you to it.” He purred, a smirk on his face as he lowered the tent flap down. You gave a huff in response and listened to his footsteps as they traveled further and further away.

You laid down on the cot, looking at the canvas walls around you. Your thoughts were filled with last night, and the blonde asshole who maybe wasn’t a complete asshole. And that was a big maybe. You of course would need more time to tell, but you hoped that with the new not-so-demeaning nickname would come new not-so-demeaning experiences.


End file.
